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Which his triumphant father's hand had won;
K. Rich. Why, uncle, what's the matter?
0, my liege,
K. Rich. Think what you will; we seize into our hands His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands.
York. I'll not be by the while; my liege, farewell. What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell ; But by bad courses may be understood, That their events can never fall out good.
[Exit. K. Rich. Go, Bushy, to the earl of Wiltshire straight; Bid him repair to us to Ely-house, To see this business. To-morrow next We will for Ireland ; and 'tis time, I trow; And we create, in absence of ourself, Our uncle York lord governor of England, For he is just, and always loved us well.— Come on, our queen; to-morrow must we part; Be merry, for our time of stay is short.
1 On the death of every person who held by knight's service, his heir, if under age, became a ward of the king's; but if of age, he had a right to sue out a writ of ouster le main, i. e. livery, that the king's hand might be taken off, and the land delivered to him. To "deny his offered homage" was to refuse to admit the homage by which he was to hold his lands.
[Flourish. [Exeunt King, Queen, Bushy, AUMERLE,
GREEN, and Bagot. North. Well, lords, the duke of Lancaster is dead. Ross. And living too; for now his son is duke. Willo. Barely in title, not in revenue. North. Richly in both, if justice had her right. Ross. My heart is great; but it must break with
silence, Ere't be disburdened with a liberal tongue. North. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er
speak more, That speaks thy words again, to do thee harm! Willo. Tends that thou wouldst speak, to the duke
of Hereford ? If it be so, out with it boldly, man; Quick is mine ear, to hear of good towards him.
Ross. No good at all, that I can do for him; Unless you call it good to pity him, Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. North. Now, afore Heaven, 'tis shame, such wrongs
are borne, In him a royal prince, and many more Of noble blood in this declining land. The king is not himself, but basely led By flatterers; and what they will inform, Merely in hate 'gainst any of us all, That will the king severely prosecute 'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. Ross. The commons hath he pilled with grievous taxes,
And quite lost their hearts; the nobles hath he fined For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.
Willo. And daily new exactions are devised;
Ross. The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm.
North. Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth over him.
Ross. He hath not money for these Irish wars,
North. His noble kinsman; most degenerate king!
Ross. We see the very wreck that we must suffer; And unavoided is the danger now, For suffering so the causes of our wreck. North. Not so; even through the hollow eyes of
spy life peering; but I dare not say How near the tidings of our comfort is.
Willo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost
Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumberland: We three are but thyself; and, speaking so, Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore, be bold. North. Then thus :-I have from Port le Blanc,
1 Stow records that Richard II.“ compelled all the religious, gentlemen, and commons, to set their seales to blankes, to the end he might, if it pleased him, oppress them severally, or all at once; some of the commons paid him 1000 marks, some 1000 pounds," &c.
In Brittany, received intelligence,
that fear. Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.
SCENE II. The same.
A Room in the Palace.
Enter Queen, Bushy, and BAGOT.
i The line in brackets, which was necessary to complete the sense, has been supplied upon the authority of Holinshed. Something of a similar import must have been omitted by accident in the old copies.
2. When the wing-feathers of a hawk were dropped or forced out by any accident, it was usual to supply as many as were deficient. This operation was called “ to imp a hawk.”
Queen. To please the king, I did ; to please myself, I cannot do it; yet I know no cause Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest As my sweet Richard. Yet, again, methinks, Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, Is coming towards me; and my inward soul With nothing trembles : at something it grieves, More than with parting from my lord the king. Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath twenty
shadows, Which show like grief itself, but are not so; For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, Divides one thing entire to many objects; Like perspectives, which, rightly gazed upon, Show nothing but confusion ; eyed awry, Distinguish form. So your sweet majesty, Looking awry upon your lord's departure, Finds shapes of grief, more than himself, to wail ; Which, looked on as it is, is nought but shadows Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen, More than your lord's departure weep not; more's not
Queen. It may be so; but yet my inward soul
Bushy. 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady.
1 This may have reference to that kind of optical delusion called anamorphosis ; which is a perspective projection of a picture, so that at one point of view, it shall appear a confused mass, or different to what it really is; in another, an exact and regular representation. Sometimes it is made to appear confused to the naked eye, and regular when viewed in a glass or mirror of a certain form.
2 The old copies have“ on thinking,” which is an evident error: we should read, “ As though in thinking;” i. e. “ though musing, I have no idea of calamity.” The involuntary and unaccountable depression of the mind which every one has sometimes felt, is here very forcibly described,